


Better Late Than Never

by lost_spook



Series: 50 Ficlets - Claim Kenny Phillips, Press Gang [10]
Category: Press Gang
Genre: Community - 50ficlets, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2010-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lynda has a present for Kenny.  Seriously, she’s trying to be nice.  Really.  It might be the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 50ficlets prompt 'Give & take'.

_Lynda: "Remind me, why are we still friends?"  
Kenny: "We argue about all the same things?"_  
(S2 Breakfast at Czar's)

*

“What is it?” Kenny examined the parcel with suspicion, holding it up and turning it round.

Lynda widened her eyes. “It’s your present. If you want specifics, open it and find out!”

“It’s not my birthday,” objected Kenny. “This isn’t because I’ve got a fatal illness and no one’s told me yet?”

She glared at him. “Kenny, it’s a present. From me, to you. There’s no need to look at it as if it’s going to start ticking and explode.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I had an alarm clock like that once. At least, it was like that after you threw it at me.”

Lynda said, “I’ll have that back, then.”

“No!”

She tried to snatch it from him, and he backed away into the door to the graphics department, keeping it out of her reach. “No, Lynda. You gave it to me.”

“Well, stop being ungrateful, then, and open it.”

He said, “I don’t get it, though.”

There was a brief silence, and then she said, “Can’t I give my best friend a present without an interrogation?”

“Yes, but why?”

She raised her chin and gave him a hard stare. “You said I owed you a present.”

“Lynda, I never did-.”

“You were moaning about how I buried your present in the garden when we were six, so I thought I'd shut you up.”

Kenny smiled. “Really? _That’s_ why?”

“And to thank you. For being my friend.”

He hesitated in the process of carefully cutting open the wrapping paper. “Lynda, are you sure _you_ haven’t got some terminal illness -?”

“There’s no need to make being nice such hard work,” she snapped. “And, Kenny, how long does it take to unwrap one present? Please don’t tell me you’re going to save the paper and re-use it?”

He grinned at her. “Aha. You can’t take it back now. It’s mine, even the paper.” He poked out his tongue in concentration, as he slid the box out. Then he paused. “Wow, Lynda, it’s a cardboard box. I’m overcome.”

“Open it, stupid.”

He peeled back the sellotape and looked inside. There was a fountain pen there, exactly like the one his Grandad had given him; the one he’d lost ages ago. “Lynda. You shouldn’t have.”

Lynda smirked back at him.

“Right. You _didn’t_. You found it,” he said, pulling it out, and holding it up. “Thanks, Lynda. And for that you called me in at six thirty in the morning?”

She leant across the desk. “Can't have the rest of the newsroom thinking I’ve gone soft, can I?”

“I suppose not.”

Then she said, “Well, aren’t you pleased to have it back?”

“Yes, I am.”

She smiled. “Good. And, by the way, that wasn’t the only thing in there.”

“What’s this?” He pulled out a handwritten slip of paper.

She grinned. “Get out of jail free card, next time I hand you a yellow. Plus, if you want me to go and make Jenny pay for dumping you, I will.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think anyone deserves that.” But he laughed in return, as the rest of the newsroom dragged themselves in and everything returned to chaos as usual.

The thing with Lynda, even though she spent most of the time charging around, apparently uninterested in his problems, she always came through in the end. Well, nine times out of ten. Or, maybe eight times. Or seven.

But mostly she came through.


End file.
